


While the City Sleeps

by pflaume



Series: Cassiopeia Lights [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, T/W, coupshan, jeongcheol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pflaume/pseuds/pflaume
Summary: Time lapses: months and seven years after Jeonghan met Seungcheol on that fated night.A Part 2 of Midnight Morse Code.





	While the City Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

> I am coming through again. A thank you for my co-jeongcheol stans. And please don't skip reading the end note.
> 
> P.S. The order of events is not chronological, good luck in figuring out the timetable.

1.  
Happiness, at some point, had been present in his life, concealed as powder streaks on maroon tabletops during college frat parties or sleepless rounds of Overwatch in a friend's condo over cans of alcohol that leave awful smell the morning after. His reasoning might have been a bit biased, throwing faults at being young and rich. But he's pretty sure he felt happy back when his mom gave him that remote controlled car he cried over, loudly, for straight two hours. He was ten and that was the only thing that kept him tethered to the fact that happiness, indeed, isn't just a fiction parents used to tell their children like how those books work.

  
He was eighteen when he made himself believe happiness depletes over age, folded under huddled books of things he doesn't want to think about and things that he can't stop thinking about, like how his parents slowly slipped out of his life without remorse, leaving his door open, gape and wretched. His status, though, paved way for another set of privileges he doesn't need but accepts because _"people want that and you should thank the heavens you don't have to move a single limb to acquire it"_.

  
He was twenty when he proved himself wrong. Because albeit it wasn't from him, Seungcheol saw it in the eyes of another. Happiness doesn't take physical form but he's pretty sure the lights reflecting Jeonghan's eyes as he laughs lightly, voice ringing all throughout midnight Seoul, perfectly accentuate what happy looks like.

  
Happiness, actually, doesn't deplete.

  
"This is good," the younger says in between mouthfuls of pizza slices, _munching, swallowing, biting_ and then _munching again, swallowing, biting_ , again and again and then again and again..

  
Seungcheol stares at him longer than he intended to, calming the spiral in his head that keeps turning into an endless pit. He takes a deep breathe before he finally opens his mouth, "You have a.." A hesitant hand drowns out the words in his lips as fast as they came. Seungcheol lifts his hand again, dubiously pointing at the mar of pizza smudging the corner of Jeonghan's lips.

  
"I'm sorry," Jeonghan, again, laughs, furiously dabbing away the spoil, a bit embarrassed but that didn't stop him from gulping down almost half of the pizza Seungheol bought.

  
Munching, swallowing, biting and then munching again, swallowing, biting, again and again and then again and again. His head fucking repeats every little thing the other does. He would've been acquiesced to it, by now but the stings of his war spoils still bite, even though they have numbed. Repetitive, but not lesser the pain.

  
He looks away, to turn his attention to the city below. Midnight is beginning to bite, wrapping Seoul in a blanket of darkness, so beautiful you'd have to stop to take it all in, appreciate the parts and then coalesce it all whole. That night might have been a good night to die, he thought hours ago, but the arrival of a stranger in the rooftop produced a butterfly effect. It rippled and Seungcheol is still breathing.

  
_Not now, he guesses._

  
"You don't talk that much, don't you?"

  
Seungcheol snaps his head back to the man beside him and he's welcomed with warm soft brown tones of eyes, curling around his bones as if fighting the harsh, cold air.

  
His mind starts to go on a merry-go-round again about how Jeonghan _blinks, fidgets, blinks, fidgets_ ㅡ but he's fast to press his nails against the pad of his hand, hard; to ground him back and to block out his thoughts. "I don't necessarily have things to say." He'd been so good at this, a feat he mastered when he was a college freshman.

  
"Well, talk about the things that go on inside your head."

  
Seungcheol inconspicuously edges away, scared that those warm eyes might engulf him whole. "Isn't that dangerous?"

  
Jeonghan shrugs, a pizza in between his mouth and the air blowing slow against his face, "I usually just talk about being an art student, how I hate it at times and at the same time, love it."

There's that twinkle in Jeonghan's eyes again. Seungcheol plays tug of war as he inches closer, claiming back the stale gap he left minutes ago. "What do you do in art-"

"No, no, no," Jeonghan waves a pizza in front of Seungcheol's face. "I don't want to talk. I want  _you_ to talk."

He opts to press his nails on his knee instead, producing a more nipping pain. For a split second, he wished he could at least come up with a decent conversation without malfunctioning. "My mind," he starts with a small smile, "doesn't work like how everyone's does."

Jeonghan's brows furrow together into a frown. Seungcheol notices how the other left the pizza box open.

"It's not that bad. Don't look at me like that," Seungcheol blurts out. A flush runs through him. "I'm normal most of the times but at times when I let go, it has this fucking irritating hobby of spinning on thoughts upon thoughts. It's relentless.

"Spinning?"

"Like you're given a thick book. You open it to find a single dot on the parchment, you flip and find the same dot, flip again even though you knew what's next. Then you wouldn't be able to stop, wanting to know what's gonna happen next. You flip and flip but it's ink and parchment all the way down."

"You blink," Jeonghan whispers and his voice makes Seungcheol think of that satisfying sound a post it makes every time it gets peeled away from paper. _Smooth._

"I.. what?"

"Your mind blinks," Jeonghan says, a bit more enthusiastic and determined this time. Seungcheol raises a brow. "Look." Jeonghan's hand darts out to point at the vast scene nine floors below them. "The city blinks and it blinks back at you."

"Those are lights from the buildings."

  
"I know. But when I'm exhausted from another grueling day at work or school, I pretend that this whole city blinks, like it's communicating a message to you. Isn't it beautiful?"

  
Seungcheol, though, remains staring at Jeonghan; his nails slowly pulling away from flesh. "Yeah," he's out of breathe and he doesn't know why. "Beautiful."

  
"It's the midnight morse code."

  
For the first time, his mind registers calm. "Midnight morse code." 

 

 

 

2.  
He immediately spots his boyfriend's big head sticking out in the plethora of cars lined up in the parking lot. He isn't in his line of sight yet though for he has his back turned on him so he takes the opportunity to fix his face, wipe the stupid grin off it and fakes a dejected expression he likes to use when Seungcheol doesn't conform to what he wishes; like sex, for example. It always works, though, with the older changing his mind from zero to a hundred, immediately.  


"Seungcheol!" he calls out in a _very, very_ fake whine, stops in his tracks when the other turns around and frowns so hard his lower lip juts out in a hard imitation of a child tantrum.

  
The raven sighs, oblivious of the act, and opens his arms, "It's okay, baby. I'll get you food, later. You must be tired. Come here."

  
And then Jeonghan bolts into a run, giggling at how Seungcheol shifts from worry to bafflement, because it's only halfway when he realizes what Jeonghan is about to do.

  
He only staggers a bit, however, when Jeonghan jumps on him, landing a perfect ten in his arms with his legs wrapped around the older's waist, because fuck he's strong. "Got you," he literally lights up and then adds, "and I got the job! But you will still get me food, right?"

  
Seungcheol rolls his eyes but the lovesick grin doesn't vanish from his face after he settles Jeonghan on the hood of his car. "Of course, who am I to decline you of your needs?"  


"Good because I'm starving," the younger preens, swinging his head lightly side to side as if bouncing.

  
Seungcheol notes that he does that always, especially when he's drunk or eating. "You're a cutie, aren't you?"

  
"I'm also in need of your affection." And then he's suddenly kissing him hard with his fingers tangled on his soft locks and it definitely isn't comfortable but who the fuck cares especially when Seungcheol starts to lean into him, pressing him down that he has to clutch on the man's arms for support.

  
A part of Jeonghan's sanity wants to berate him for doing such display in a public place and hell, it is one fucking stunt because he's kissing a man who probably means one-third of nation's tax money but Seungcheol's mouth is hot, his tongue swipes so sinfully down his and his hands are touching him in places he wants to.

Never in his whole life did he imagine kissing the man he loves on the hood of a motherfucking 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

 

 

 

3.  
Jeonghan hardly remembers the sweat sticking in his back that day, fatigue clipped under the bags of his eyes and his friends bitching over some papers they need to finish, which he was tired to bitch about because he managed to fuck up the last remaining hours of his sleep, worrying about the possibilities of meeting a stranger again on another different circumstance.  


"Han, do you have a model now?"  


His mind almost immediately returns to full attention at the mention of the said topic. "Fuck, no, not yet. Fuck, when's the deadline again?"  


"Next week," Seungkwan purses his lips while Dokyeon remains awfully silent beside him. "Can you be my model instead?"  


A whip of students flies past the trio, almost flunging everything that's in Jeonghan's grasp and if he isn't too busy to stress about the said project, he would have showed those students where they belong. Right now, he's thinking about how 'next week' is only three days away, considering that it's already past midnight when they decided to venture out of the library.  


His frown seems to deepen the closer they step to their dormitories, "That's not even possible."  


He feels a nudge to his side and a gasp from Seungkwan before he comprehends that someone is waiting in his doorstep. The stress of his upcoming school project shuts out of his line of reasoning when he recognizes the face.  


"Seungcheol? What are you doing here? It's already late."  


Seungcheol shrugs, as if nonchalant although Jeonghan knows better, judging from the slight tremble of his hands and his blotchy red nose. _He must have waited for hours_.  


And for the first time since they met, Jeonghan finds a geniune smile in the lips of the older.

 

 

 

4.  
Seungcheol wakes up to the strong urge of doing something. He doesn't react to it immediately though. Jolting awake to intrusive thoughts seems like a normal phenomena to the man yet his hands still ache like fuck and his head swims in circles. He lays there, motionless, pushing off possibilities of getting upㅡ _get up, Seungcheol, get up, what if you really haven't healed_ ㅡ closing his eyes hard and zoning in on other things instead, like how warm Jeonghan is, peacefully sleeping and pressed beside him.  
  


He should probably get back to sleep, shouldn't be thinking what time is it now, or about that big wound he got from an accident when he was in Manhattanㅡ _get up, Seungcheol, what the fuck.  
  
_

He loses the fight and scrambles on the way to the kitchen, his hands clammy with his fists shifting sheets away. He cringes when both his feet hit the cold floor and does even more when he hears Jeonghan wake up.  
  


"Cheol? What happened?" Jeonghan's voice is loud over their very large room but his thoughts were somehow muffling it out, demanding to be heard.  
  


"Nothing. Go back to sleep," he commands, not wanting to worry the other yet his steps are fast and he's breaking out in big sweats.  
  


He's sure Jeonghan isn't someone to obey that quick but he takes no time to open the cupboards, pull out the pill bottle and swallow doses he's sure isn't recommended butㅡ _you're supposed to take five pills, not four_ , his mind says. _Take one again, take one.  
  
_

He watches his knuckles go white from gripping the edges of the sink so hard just so he can push it past away. He watches Jeonghan stride inside the kitchen, eyes going comically wide upon finding the open bottle of pills; watches him almost fly towards him, it's almost funny only if his mind isn't busy on saying _'one more pill and you're good'.  
  
_

"Seungcheol, how many did you take?" Jeonghan asks, worry etched all over his features that Seungcheol finds it painful. The younger then takes his face in between his palms but he can't hear him, only reading what his lips were saying. It's like watching a mute TV show. "Cheollie?"  
  


There it goes, the nicknames. Seungcheol closes his eyes. He's doing it again. He's worrying him again. He does not deserve to wake up at 4 fucking o'clock in the morning to attend to his almost loose boyfriendㅡ Seungcheol _hates_ the word but he starts to identify himself as one because no normal person worries about dying and at the same time, projects himself into it, head first. Jeonghan is tired from his work all day. He should be sleeping.  
  


"I'm sorry," he croaks and then he realizes he's out of breath before he staggers and plops himself on the kitchen floor.  
  


Jeonghan already has him in his arms, warm steady breathing beside him, as if saying _'this is how you breathe, slow and steady'_. His mind, again, drowns out on _slow and steady, slow and steady, slow and steady, slow and steady.  
  
_

Seungcheol starts to feel hung and he decided he needs sleep.  
  


"Cheollie baby, how many did you take?" His arms are warm around him, cradling him like he's about to break but he asks with a hint of urgency in his voice. It's agitation, something Seungcheol found out when Jeonghan started to call him nicknames during attacks like these because he's a big fucking case.  
  


"Four," he whispers and feels the need to apologize when Jeonghan tenses.  
  


"Wait here. I'm going to call Miss Kㅡ" the other pulls away but Seungcheol remains stubborn so he clutches on his wrists, pulling him back.  
  


"No, don't. Stay."  
  


He knows what would happen next. He's pretty sure he hears his chest constrict when the first tears fall out of Jeonghan's face and then streams down, glowing under the synthetic light of their kitchen. It's at this moment he realizes he doesn't want anything making Jeonghan cry.  
  


"I'm sorry," his hands find purchase on Jeonghan's cheeks, hastily wiping the tears he caused. "I'm sorry but I couldn't help it. I won'tㅡ fuck, please don't cry."  
Jeonghan, though, can't help the muffled cry that leaves his lips. He pushes his face past the big hands, buries it, instead, on the older's shoulder and settles himself on his lap, which was recuperated with a crushing hug that means the home he found several months ago, from a man who promised to continue as long as Jeonghan wanted to.  
  


They stay cooped up in the corner of the kitchen for minutes as the sun slowly starts to rise over the big city. Seungcheol watches the morse codes start to fade away through the glass walls and he doesn't know if Jeonghan has fallen asleep in his arms.  
  


He did, fortunately.  
  


"I'm sorry," he whispers to the sleeping man as he smooths out the wrinkles in his face and pushes the hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead. There's fatigue in his frown but Seungcheol is struckㅡ for maybe the millionth timeㅡ with how beautiful Jeonghan is, in all edges. Finesse.  
  


He sometimes wants to trade with people who are running away from the clock, pushing past due dates and calendars.  
  


He thinks life is a big fucking game of _'here's all the things you don't need but I won't be giving that one thing you want'.  
_

  
Jeonghan is someone he wants and at the same time, needs. He likes to think it's a deviation from the norm; a big "fuck you" to life.  
  


 

Albeit it doesn't really totally heal him, he decides to try, just so he can say all the more "fuck you"s he could. 

 

 

5.  
"You move too much," are the words that Jeonghan says the moment Seungcheol raised his brow in the slightest of movement.  
  


Now he's going to take note of how Seungcheol's fringes fall over his forehead everytime he moves but the scratches of coal on pad doesn't stop, continues to trace everything Seungcheol does.  
  


"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be paying me for that?"  
  


Jeonghan snorts. _What an ass_ , he likes to say, but he chooses to notice how the man contrasts the fading wall of his dormitory room; how accentuated the yellow edges have become because Seungcheol is striking, like that, a cut above the rest. He doesn't belong in somewhere that costs only a dime; doesn't belong in the cafeteria of Jeonghan's university which he did, anyway, visiting the latter because he can do that; a V.I.P pass. Come on, being rich could take you to places that easily. It's a projection of power; a projection of what money could do. Vile, disgusting but achingly true, at the same time.  
  


"Why'd you stop?" Seungcheol nudges him using his toe because he's sprawled on Jeonghan's bed and he can't be bothered to stand. Doesn't matter, Jeonghan makes a good note of how narrow the room is, considering how Seungcheol, from his bed, could easily reach him in the study table using only his leg.  
  


Jeonghan places the pencil on the pad of unfinished sketch, "Why are you here, Seungcheol?"  
  


Seungcheol's face shifts from a goofy grin to confusion and then apprehension, "Am I not allowed to be here?"  
  


There is it. He always does that. He answers a question with another question. This is how probably rich people work. They get riches in everyone's perplexity. That's supposed to be voidableㅡ contracts, statute of frauds; but whatever.  
  


Jeonghan breathes through his nose and results to staring hard at the fraying wallpaper of his dorm room. His roommate isn't home yet. "No, I mean why are you always here? You visit me at school, walk me home, take me to places. You literally live in the other side of the town."  
  


He doesn't expect for the answer he wants to come from the other but his mind does bother to think about it. He's been actually thinking about it for weeks now, causing stress and unnecessary fatigue on his already hectic schedule. Sleepless nights do that. Maybe, Jeonghan considers.

  
"I own a car, can I not use it around?" Seungcheol's voice is steady and his nails are digging on his palms.  
  


There. Jeonghan tries hard not to frown. It wasn't the answer he wanted. He should have been more resilient with his choices of 'how to react when you're being rejected by a modern rich prince' but he only has: one, look nonchalant and two, do your best not to frown. He picks up the pencil again and goes back to sketching the said prince. "Right," there's a bite in his voice. "Nevermind what I said. I was just.. stressed, I guess. Don't move too much. And stop doing that to your hands."  
  


Seungcheol relaxes on his bed, "Okay."  
  


He brings up the pad so he could block the man on his bed from his line of sight. Thirty seconds in and his arms start to hurt so he drops it back to the table and realizes he hates himself for dropping off the topic easily like that; he hates himself for not being born belonging to the bourgeois; for not having the prominent family name that Seungcheol has.  
  


He hates himself for wanting someone he can't afford.  
  


"Jeonghan, would you like to be my boyfriend?" he hears Seungcheol say and his pencil stops midway in tracing the scrunch of a sleeve on his sketch.  
  


"Excuse me, what?" he whips his head up in panic of some sort that he doesn't know where it's coming from. He's sure it was Seungcheol who said it. It was that voice that makes him think of Christmas mornings, of warmth from cigarette sticks against clipped frost, of bed and nice expensive smell, of midnight morse codes and purpose of existence. But he did not see him move his lips. He just wants validation. "Could you say that again?"

  
"I like you," Seungcheol blurts and it's fucking cute how he flushes into a deep shade of red as his eyes dart everywhere but Jeonghan. "So would youㅡ"  
  


"Were we dating?" he cuts and the other rosies even more, if that's possible.  
  


"I didn't make it clear, did I? But I was seeing you often. I guess that counts?" It ends as a question for Jeonghan to recuperate and agree.  
  


His head is hammering, not his chestㅡ or his heart, like people always say. His heart is somewhere out there; probably in Seungcheol's pocket or his fucking Doc Martens. He doesn't understand. He wants this and he gets it, that easily. This isn't how his life worked for the past years. "Why me?"  
  


Seungcheol's face contorts into a frown and he immediately sits up so fast that Jeonghan's eyes widen in surprise. "Why not you?"  
  


It's probably a spur of the moment decision or Seungcheol indeed had his heart in his pocket because the moment those words left the latter's mouth, Jeonghan lunges at him in a flurry of emotions he wants to pour out and at the same time, fill in. Damn the sketch he was doing.  
  


He fits in Seungcheol's arms easily, snug on his lap too. There's a fucking smile in his face. It's splitting and he realizes Seungcheol doesn't belong in his place because he belongs to him, an eclipse on all of his morse codes; the only time where his universes align.  
  


Jeonghan does the very first thing he wanted to do the moment he met the man, only five months after.  
  


He leans in and kisses him.

 

 

6.

The soft thuds of feet on expensive marble floor don't lie when he hears the security system pings and the floor opens and closes softly.  
  


"Cheol?"  
  


Seungcheol claims home in that voice but he doesn't respond. He doesn't have the energy to.  
  


It takes one, two, three minutes for the other to find Seungcheol. The older feels something dig on his thighs. It has been unusually humid that afternoon and his mind keeps on magnifying the doubt of whether the other locked the door properly or not.  
  


"Why are you on the kitchen floor, Cheollie?"  
  


Slowly, he cracks one eye open and smiles at Jeonghan who is crouched down with his chin on his knees, beside him. "The door.." he goes to say but trails off, remembering to shift the worry on something else normal. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry. I know I promised about cleaning the house."  
  


Silence ensues and Seungcheol strongly focuses on going back to slumber, not actually caring that he's in the middle of the kitchen floor with only his sweatpants and Balenciaga shirt.  
  


A lithe body presses against him and he finds Jeonghan sprawled all over him, warmth seeping him in with his head laid on his chest and arms around his waist. "Let's clean the house together, tomorrow. For now, let's sleep."  
  


For the first time, Seungcheol's mind registers rest. "Of course, baby. Whatever you want."

 

 

7.

Jeonghan thinks getting up is the very first mistake out of all the plethora he's about to do today. It's probably noon already although he really doesn't care. He sits up and takes good notice of how his brain knocks furiously bad at the back of his head that a groan involuntary slips out of his lips.  
  


He hates this kind of headache. It isn't the stinging prominent kind of pain. It's the numb jab, silently knocking and waiting to be welcomed again with the slightest of movement of the head. Hangover, indeed, as teenagers like to say, hurts like a _bitch_. But Jeonghan isn't a teenager now so he will stand up and deal with this like a functioning adult that he is.  
  


Jeonghan wraps himself around the premium duvet with only his face sticking out, relishing in the afternoon glow of the bedroom, before reaching up to take the advil on the bedside table. His brow shot a notch higher at the single rose beside a glass of water.  
  


"Huh," he whispers, lips budding into a slow smirk.  
  


And then he's out of the bed within two seconds.  
  


The second mistake he does today is step out of the bedroom. He sees Seungcheol watching a television show on the couch and he practically prances toward him albeit he knows what's gonna happen. The yawn pushes Jeonghan to the attention of the older. He's wearing his glasses and Jeonghan internally curses at the physics of how good a man looks with glasses on. Or is it just Seungcheol?  
  


"You're dragging the blanket," is what only Seungcheol say. No _'hey baby'_ or _'good morning'_ or _'how was your sleep?'_ whatsoever. Rude.  
  


Jeonghan frowns, not because of what was said (the motherfucker could literally buy twenty more fucking duvets if he wants to) but because he knows Seungcheol thinks he's cute when he frowns. And even though he admits it was his fault, he could somehow minimize the damage. "I know," he answers, finally arriving at the side of the couch after ten heaving seconds of painful walking. He's spent so he dramatically plops down beside the man and drapes his arms around his torso. He is welcomed still, with Seungcheol's arm automatically wrapping around his shoulders. "But I'm naked," he adds, face now buried on the older's neck. "And I got lazy about the clothes." Minimizing the damage. Minimizing the damage.  
  


Seungcheol makes a small noise. If it was a scoff or a snort, Jeonghan doesn't know. "It's cold. Go get something warm."  
  


He whines a long dragging sound, second step to _'minimizing the damage'_ but Seungcheol remains poised and stoic, eyes glued to whatever he is watching: news about stocks in Wall Street or something Jeonghan doesn't care about.  
  


He hates it when Seungcheol puts this act on. Whenever Jeonghan does something ridiculous, he doesn't get angry, doesn't blame him for it, doesn't shout at him. He just has this look that makes Jeonghan think of his own past mistakes even before they met; makes him think Seungcheol is the only child of Adam and Eve rightfully deserving of the whole human rights.  
  


Worse, it's effective so he takes a deep breath and mumbles a soft, "I'm sorry." Fuck minimizing the damage.  
  


"Sorry for what, Jeonghan?"  
  


Another whine leaves his lips. "Why are you being such a douche?" he pouts, and he only does that after the second step, which means he doesn't have anything left to pull out. And he really doesn't poutㅡ no, disgusting. "I literally got up so I could say sorry even if my head hurts so bad an-"  
  


Seungcheol leans back and Jeonghan follows the action, leaning also onto him. He's clingy like that. "Are you complaining to me now?"  
  


He hastily shakes his head and the pain is quick to say hello. He knocks back the urge to groan. "I'm sorry I got so wasted last night and that Joshua and Wonwoo had to take me home because I passed outㅡ"  
  


"Those two could have their good time together but youㅡ"  
  


"I know!" His pitch rises up along with Seungcheol's right brow and he clamps his mouth back shut, choosing to melt into the man's chest instead just so he could hide his frustrated face. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm saying sorry now. Not gonna happen again."  
  


"Do you remember what you did last night?"  
  


"I do," he grunts, mind cycling back to painful heaving and drunk slurs; giving Seungcheol a really hard time with his bratty behavior and attitude before passing out for the second time that night. "Don't make me remember."  
  


A knowing smile crawls onto his lips when he feels Seungcheol relaxes and starts to thread his fingers through Jeonghan's hair. It's a bit shorter now, finally able to let go of the angel image when he started his modelling career. It was also too expensive to maintain, much as well make use of the money for more pressing needs instead.  
  


"You know where I am coming from, right?" Seungcheol mutes the TV so he could properly talk to Jeonghan.  
  


_Finally, attention.  
  
_

He preens, pleased to himself; of course, secretly and then makes use of the sulk in his voice. "I'm twenty-seven years old, Cheol, and bodyguards are paid for their jobs."  
  


"I don't trust anyone with your safety, Hannie."  
  


His head shots up and he smiles before pressing a kiss onto the other's cheek. "So you aren't mad at me?"  
  


Seungcheol snickers, shaking his head lightly. "I am." It's the most endearing thing, Jeonghan thinks. His smile; it rolls his cheeks into a swell up his cheekbones and then his dimples would dig in as a replacement of them. The corner of his eyes would crinkle into tiny creases like a baby's and it's the most purest thing that ever tugged Jeonghan's heartstrings askew.  
  


"You don't get mad at me," he goes to say as a fact, masking the unnoticed skip of time when Seungcheol smiled.  
  


"Yeah, sure. Remember that New Year, when we were in Amsterdam and-"  
  


"Okay, okayㅡ" Jeonghan slaps the man abruptly cutting him off. "I got the gist. Go back to watching your precious money on the market."  
  


Much to Jeonghan's annoyance, the motherfucker did revert his attention back to the television, though still muted. He's obviously, in a sense, one cloth away from a full fucking course meal and he chooses the crisp dollars over that.  
  


This isn't acceptable. Jeonghan squirms around the loveseat, making best exaggerated motions to squish himself to the other. When he doesn't respond (what a dick), he results to pressing soft kisses on his jaw which was a bad idea because now he's given the full view of Seungcheol's features from the side and did he already say his fiance is expensively handsome? Probably, but he's at it by now, tracing a light gaze along the lashes to his nose and his lips.  
  


There was once in Jeonghan's life that he thought he didn't have the time for leisure, much more romance; thought he couldn't afford commitment because he'll only result to counting days of exhausted love, barely hanging onto the tie of knot. He was rightfully settled with dating as something he enjoys, not permanently. He wasn't prepared with the sudden turn of beliefs, that is Choi Seungcheol.  
  


"I love you," he unconsciously says, running his thumb on Seungcheol's finger, wearing their ring. Sure he says it over the phone and before leaving the apartment; acquainted with the phrase during the most intimate of times or the most mundane activity they do but it still feels as if he just realized it, all the while making him scared and satisfied at the same time.  
  


But Seungcheol looks at him with the most fond eyes he has seen, presses soft kisses on his lips repeatedly and everything's reassured again with his simple, "I love you back, baby," mouthing against his lips.  
  


With this, Jeonghan stands up and pulls Seungcheol into their large, the kind of large nobody needs, room.  
  


"Babe, I'm watchi-"  
  


He lazily smiles, "Shush. I'm minimizing the damage."  
  


The duvet gets left on the loveseat.

 

 

8.

"Don't you, for once, wish for a normal life?" Jeonghan  _finally, finally_ asks. Sleep is encrusted down under something he can't reach although he's surrounded with a plenitude of pillows in this goddamn bed; and he's left to staring at the mirror on the ceiling of their hotel room with something heavy pressing down his chest.  
  


Seungcheol stirs from his lap. His hand is tangled on his soft brown locks, freshly dyed, unconsciously smoothing and patting his hair in between his long gracious fingers. "What do you mean a normal life?" Seungcheol looks up, putting his chin on Jeonghan's thigh. His fringe falls freely on his forehead under the low glow of the moon. And he fucking shines when the light hits him like he is some kind of a medieval royalty who owns secrets people talk about, especially when his naked everything is accentuated with the illumination. Jeonghan's heart clenches. "I was born into this. I could not have a choice, could I?"  
  


_But you could, right now.  
  
_

He wants to say that one thing that has been bugging him after their day roaming out, with Seungcheol's parents but at the same time, why does everything constrict the moment he attempts to?  
  


Silently, he continues to stare at his reflection and he really doesn't know who or what he's staring at; maybe his rationalization, maybe his insecurities or maybe his wants. "Cheol," he begins slowly, after a considerable bliss of comfortable silence with Seungcheol barely drifting to sleep. He really can't blame him, considering what they had hours ago.  
  


"Hm?" He doesn't look up this time, only continues to close his eyes and for the first time, Jeonghan is thankful for the bare minimum attention.  
  


He first takes a slow sigh. Really, he needs to stop sounding so disappointed with himself. "What do you see in me?"  
  


Seungcheol eyes shot open. He blinks once, twice and then he presses a gentle kiss on Jeonghan's thigh before saying, "You're really hot."  
  


"Stop. I'm being serious," the blond rolls his eyes and shoves his head away from him, lifting the stale feeling in his chest only for a few minutes. It settles back again, though.  
  


Seungcheol only laughs, to which produces another tug in Jeonghan's thoughts.  
  


Jeonghan isn't a fan of confrontations. As much as possible, he takes no further damage by fleeing from probable arguments. He takes the light route into solving issues as it all feels like being cornered. But this isn't just an issue. This is a whole fucking point he started. It's digging and if ignored, it will bear a hole soon enough for his demons to feast on.  
  


He hates himself, again and again, for loving someone he can't afford.  
  


"Cheol," he clears his throat, realizing it has all clogged up. It's cold, he rationalizes. His nose is runny because New Year in Amsterdam sure is cold; certainly not because his eyes are getting watery with tears. "You know I'm not much."  
  


"Jeonghan, we're not getting into that conversation," Seungcheol, who picked up the tension, adjusts himself, crawling up so he can wrap his arms around the younger. His voice is hard, Jeonghan notices, pressed with a command but with fond, all the same.  
  


"No," Jeonghan, always the stubborn one, pushes him off. He doesn't need to be cooed right now; doesn't need to be lied to. What he needs is relief from his clawing insecurities because he's close to cutting this deal off but he can't. He can't because he's a big fucking coward. "I really don't understand you."  
  


"What?" Seungcheol looks taken aback by the bite of the younger's words. There's an expression in his face that Jeonghan can't comprehend but he goes to memorize all the features in it, just in case. "What are you trying to say?"  
  


"You could, you know," Jeonghan shrugs so he could mock complacence; a throw to the wind; so he could show the other that it doesn't bother him the slightest. But there goes the first set of tears that betrays him and then the second, and then it's pouring. And it hurts, like a bitch. "Have a normal life. You want that, right? Get a wife. Have kids. But you're being fucking stupid for choosing me."  
  


It's two a.m. and it's really not a good time to pick a fight, especially after a night of hushed intimacy and making love. Seungcheol looks totally confused and frustrated with the sudden turn of events and he doesn't move nor talk after five good seconds, only runs his hands through his hair. "Is this something from what happened earlier? Did my parents say something to you?"  
  


"No," he hiccups, trying to bite down the tremble in his lips because there goes mad Seungcheol. He doesn't want him mad particularly if they are about to end this way. "Your parents are the sweetest. This is coming from me."  
  


"Coming from you?" Seungcheol stands up and paces around the room with only his boxers on. Jeonghan watches his every movement. God, he is his fucking world. _Why does he make everything so hard?_ "It is not your decision to choose who I want, Jeonghan. That is for me to tell."  
  


"Well then you are making the wrong one!" he shouts, now fully gripping the sheets that only covers his lithe body. "You could go marry someone your own level! Not someone you met at an abandoned building. I am nowhere near you. You don't.." he pauses to take a deep breath because right now, the pressure in his chest is digging deeper, instead of lifting up like what he was expecting. "You don't belong to me. We're different."  
  


This time Seungcheol looks hurt as he asks, "We're different?" Jeonghan detests the fact that he's the one who caused that pang to the other. He wants to stand up and wrap his arms around him but that would be betraying the whole situation.  
  


"We're not supposed to end up together, Cheol." It took all of his sanity to get those words out of his mouth in his best calm voice; to come it out as a soothe to minimize the pain but it doesn't even stop his tears nor the tremble of his shoulders.  
  


Seungcheol steps back like he was cut with a jab to the jaw. He sure isn't crying but the grief in his face is magnified and imprinted into Jeonghan's mind. "So what were those five years, Jeonghan?" The forced laugh of the older hits him like a truck, never actually expecting for that precious sound to hurt that way. "A fucking trial?"  
  


"No," he croaks out and then he stares at the other straight into the eyes like he was asking for help. "No, no, no," he chants repeatedly, desperate for Seungcheol to realize what he's trying to say. "That isn't wㅡ"  
  


The next question that Seungcheol drops hurts even more than anything his childhood has caused him. "Did you ever love me, Jeonghan?" It leaves a sting to all the years he dedicated to this man and _how can he pull him back now?  
  
_

"Do you really doubt tㅡ"  
  


"Did you? Or did you not?"  
  


"Of course! I still do, you fucking moron!"  
  


"Would you marry me if I ask you?"  
  


He hastily wipes his tears so he could take a good look at him because he's being incredulous. "What kind of question is that?"  
  


"Answer me."  
  


He looks up, avoiding the gaze that has been weighing him down. He's pulled but he knows the answer to that question, he knows in a heartbeat; in one snap of the fingers. He knows like how he memorizes the moles in Seungcheol's nape down to his back. He's _selfish_.  
  


"Jeonghan," Seungcheol pleads.  
  


"Yes, I would. In a fucking whirlwind, Seungcheol, I would." He's, indeed, selfish.  
  


And then, it all happened so fast. One moment Seungcheol was suddenly out of the bedroom and right then, he's immediately back as if Jeonghan's gonna vanish into thin air. He takes big steps toward him with a determined face, throws something into the mattress and pulls his hand from the comforter.  
  


And then, there sits a very _gorgeous_ diamond ring around his finger. "There," Seungcheol exhales, proud of himself. "Sealed. You're not going anywhere."  
  


The motherfucker.  
  


"What the hell?" Jeonghan panics and the tears are back, even bigger. His hands are trembling yet this is where the pressure in his chest lifts up; relief finds its way in and all the more emotions he can't process all at once. "You can't just do that!"  
  


"Do what? It's binding. I asked you, you said yes."  
  


"You can't just pull a goddamn ring from anywhere! That's ridiculous!"  
  


"I'm Choi Seungcheol. I can do ridiculous," he shrugs, exuding a smile that Jeonghan loves and will always do.  
  


Fucking Seungcheol and his premium man bubble.  
  


It's probably more work to stop all the wetness in his face so he continues to sob like a baby whilst Seungcheol holds him in his arms, whispering words he wants and needs to hear. "You know I love you, right?" His face is lifted up and it's wiped with pad of thumbs so familiar to his skin. He can only function for a small nod because he's embarrassing and such a mess. "And I chose you because I wouldn't want anything otherwise."  
  


Seungcheol's words are lulling and placating and his voice is the only thing he wants to hear every day of his life.  
  


"And I'm not making the wrong decision. Out of all that I have ever done, you were the best. And yes, maybe the lights were giving me a message that night."  
  


Jeonghan opts to tighten his arms around Seungcheol's torso even more, afraid he might suddenly let go. But he continues to listen, humming small sounds of affirmation.  
  


"Before," Seungcheol continues, pressing soft kisses on his lover's face. "I thought you were my deviation, somehow a second chance to life. But I realized, you weren't a sudden opportunity given to the broken. Because you were the exception, Han; a planned path. If I hadn't met you in that rooftop, I would probably met you somewhere else; down the bend of the avenue or inside that convenience store."  
  


"The universe would make way," Jeonghan laughs, face streaked with dried tears.  
  


Everything has been in count for Jeonghan, at least ever since he chose to set foot on a trodden way usually not taken. From there, the world tilted in a way that somehow nudges him off the grid, even only in one certain offbeat. He could still hate himself for loving someone he can't afford but right now, it is _one_ person. Seungcheol is the alignment of his flaws and right decisions; his pull of gravity to ground him always; his choice of sanity and all the lit Cassiopeia-induced spontaneity.   
  


"Indeed, it would," the older nods. "You weren't a chance. You were the destination. The message was.. you. You are my midnight morse code."

 

 

-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> However, this story does not end on a happily ever after. The character I made for Seungcheol continued to have his anxiety attacks (as what signs he is still showing in the ending part of mmc) because it is what it is. Health issues like this doesn't easily get treated just by meeting someone, unless it does. I am of no position but in my fic, I don't want my readers to romanticize mental struggles. It is hard and much, much more complicated than that. But, it helps to have someone by your side; a confidant, just someone to lean on. This is where Jeonghan's character is introduced. Jeonghan's silence during his episodes doesn't mean lack of response towards Seungcheol. I molded the older around a T-personality. He doesn't like voicing out what he feels because it is projected as a weakness: explains why during the part where Jeonghan cries, he only utters "I could not help it". It is not a matter of 'it's gonna be fine' or 'cheer up'. It doesn't work that way. At the most, he only wants the companion and peace. It is how he copes and Jeonghan is rightfully giving him that. Lastly, I intended the confession to happen on a good day to show that Seungcheol fell in love not with what Jeonghan brings but for who he is.
> 
> And this is where this installment closes.
> 
> -
> 
> Also, with the sudden news that hit us all, our Jonghyun is up there now. I postponed posting this because I lost the motivation for two consecutive days but I am back now. Take time to heal, people.


End file.
